


Counting the Cost

by suchanadorer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sally and Greg discuss the implications of outing Sherlock as a fraud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting the Cost

Lestrade glances up at Sally, then goes back to packing the cardboard box lying on his desk chair. He turns a stapler over in his hands, tossing it into the box with a crash as the door clicks shut. Sally sets a cup of coffee down on his desk and steps back, leaning against the closed door.

“This-“ She gestures towards the box and his empty desktop, “- wasn’t what I wanted.” She studies the tip of her shoe as she speaks. “I didn’t-“

“Well, it’s what happened. Don’t know what else you expected.” He moves the box onto the floor and drops into the chair, opening a drawer and methodically emptying it.

“I just wanted... no one even questioned it, ever. He got to come in and do whatever he wanted, all the time.”

“What he wanted to do was to solve crimes and put away criminals. Wasn’t that also what we wanted?” He thumbs through a thick file before replacing it in the drawer.

“If that was all he wanted then why didn’t he become a police officer, do it properly?” Sally asks. Greg sighs and pushes the drawer shut, reaching across his desk for the paper cup.

“Lord knows I tried to get him to, in the beginning, but he didn’t want to be restricted. He took the cases he wanted. Sometimes he did things that didn’t involve the police.”

“Right, and then we got to go in and clean up after him when he got in over his head, him and then John. How is he? Still staying with you?” Greg nods.

“Terrible. You wouldn’t know it to look at him. He’s keeping it together, poor sod, but he doesn’t sleep, not much anyway. He’s up at all hours, leaves in the middle of the night.”

“What’s he doing?”

“No idea.”

They are both quiet. Greg stares out the window. Sally watches him, then looks around the room, shifting uncomfortably.

“We have rules, and they’re there for a reason.”

“They ‘interfered with his methods’.” He leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sally pushes off from the door, pacing in front of his desk. “His methods? Smoke and mirrors? You can’t know the things he knew just by looking at a person.”

“Well, he could.”

“He was never wrong. You, you’re a great detective, but...” He shoots her a dark look and she lets the sentence trail off. “He was _never_ wrong.”

“He didn’t always know what cases I was coming with, you know. And sometimes I brought him cold ones, just to see if he could help.” Greg watches Sally pick at a nail bed from over the lid of his coffee cup. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

“This Richard Brook might not be the only one. What if more innocent-“

“Do you honestly believe any of those people were actually innocent? Look me in the eye and tell me we put away an innocent man because of Sherlock Holmes!” Greg stands, his eyes hard as he leans on his desk, lowering his head to hold her gaze as she tries to look away. “They’re re-opening all my cases, whether Sherlock helped with them or not. They’ll go through everything, every interrogation, interviews with witnesses. Anderson’s forensics, Doctor Hooper’s autopsy reports. All of it.”

“And the ones with solid evidence will still hold!”

“Not if we only obtained it because of him, which, yeah, there are some cases that might get overturned now. Murderers and thieves, back on the street.” He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Proving him a fake doesn’t make those victims less dead.”

“You always knew this could happen, and you did it anyway.”

“Never thought someone here would be the one to bring it around, though.” He re-opens the drawer and makes a point of not looking at Sally.

“I did nothing wrong. I warned you, from the first time you let that _freak_ -“ Sally’s hand flies to her mouth.

“Get out.” Greg slams the drawer closed and rounds the desk, looming in front of Sally.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I helped carry his coffin not a week ago. This might not be my office much longer but while it is I'll not hear that word again.”

Sally backs up against the door, fumbling behind her for the handle. “I just meant-“

“He jumped, Sally! Jumped off the roof of Bart’s, right in front of John. Called him, crying, on the phone before he did it. Have a little care, for God’s sake.” Greg turns away from her, rests one hand on the edge of his desk and covers his face with the other. Sally opens the door and turns to go, her expression pinched and sad.

“I am sorry.”

“Sorry won’t clear his name or bring him back.”

She pulls the door shut behind her, waving Iain off when he approaches, case file in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Iain is Iain Dimmock, based on mybelovedcheshire's fics about the Yarders.


End file.
